Before the Letter: A Crimson Peak AU (Companion piece to The Letter)
by bronxdawn
Summary: This is a companion piece to my Crimson Peak AU story "The Letter" which must be read before this or you'll be mighty confused! This is both a prequel and a sequel to that story. This story delves more into what the "Sharpes" were up to after they left Buffalo.


IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a companion piece to my Crimson Peak AU story "The Letter". That story must be read BEFORE this story or you'll be mighty confused! This is both a prequel and a sequel to "The Letter".

March 1903 – Boston, Massachusetts

It took a long while to convince Lizzie it was time to stop grifting and settle down to a respectable life.

What finally convinced her was nearly being caught by one of their recent marks, a man who they'd fleeced for a tidy sum of money in Philadelphia. They'd been at Boston's Majestic Theatre seeing a show when they spotted him in the aisle opposite theirs as the lights came up during the interval. The man had glanced in their direction and then paused, the look on his face growing dark with anger as he realized who they were. Thomas and Lizzie hurried out of the theatre and disappeared into the crowded streets before the man could pursue them.

As soon as they reached their boarding room, Lizzie pulled out a suitcase and started throwing clothes into it. "It was time to leave 'ere anyway," she said breathlessly, her Cockney accent slipping out as it usually did when they were alone and she was agitated. "I woz thinkin' San Francisco next-lots o' rich fools there just waitin' to be 'ad!"

"Lizzie, stop…..STOP!" Thomas gently pulled her hands off the suitcase and motioned her to sit on the bed next to him. "I don't want to go to San Francisco."

"Chicago then!"

"No, not Chicago," he said quietly. "I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go _home_."

" _ **Home**_?" She looked at him incredulously. "We don't 'AVE a home….you can't mean LONDON? You know I can't ever go back there!" Thomas' heart wrenched at the sudden nervousness in Lizzie's quavering voice and look of panic on her face. He squeezed her hand.

"No, love, not London. I want to go home to England, but not to a big city. Somewhere we can settle down. Somewhere peaceful. You've always said you wanted to live by the ocean someday-"

"Wot's bringin' this on, luv? You've been on at me about this for weeks now, all of a sudden."

"I'm tired, Lizzie. Tired of pretending to be someone I'm not, and robbing people blind and then running. Tired of worrying that we'll be caught and taken away from each other. Look how close we almost came to being caught tonight! Just the _thought_ of you going to prison keeps me awake at night. I couldn't bear it."

All that was true, but Thomas couldn't tell her the whole truth of why he wanted to stop. That Edith Cushing's novel Crimson Peak and its redemption of the character "Cavendish" who she'd obviously based on _him_ had been the final catalyst for Thomas wanting to become a better man.

He'd never spoken to Lizzie at all about Edith Cushing once they left Buffalo. Lizzie would never know that he still harbored feelings for Edith, and that he'd purchased and eagerly read her published book in private. She would also never know about the separate bank account he intended to open in order to start saving to repay Carter Cushing for the money he'd bribed them with to leave Buffalo. Lizzie was terrified of ever being poor again and would never have approved of him doling out their money to anyone for anything other than necessity. He would slowly build up savings in the surreptitious fund until he had enough in there to repay Cushing with some interest. Once he repaid Cushing the account would be closed.

These were the only secrets Thomas ever kept from Lizzie, and he would keep them to his grave.

"I don't know," Lizzie fretted. "Maybe next year-we can save up some more-"

"Let's go down to Devon, or maybe Cornwall, " Thomas pleaded. "Somewhere on the coast. We'll travel around a bit, have a rest. And maybe we'll find somewhere we want to stay. We have enough money now; we don't _have_ to wait. Say 'yes', Lizzie. _Please._ Aren't you tired too?"

She was sitting next to him with her head bowed so he couldn't see her face. They sat quietly for a moment, then he heard her draw in a shuddering breath, and her hand squeezed his. When she looked up at him tears were swimming in her large blue eyes.

" _Yes_ ," she answered.

July 1903 – Clovelly, Cornwall, England

Thomas and Lizzie were lying in bed, enveloped by the softest and most comfortable mattress and linens they'd ever slept on in their lives.

The rest of the room was sparsely furnished. Thomas didn't care either way about what their surroundings were as long as they were safe and together, and all Lizzie had wanted to splurge on was their bed. She was happy to live with simple furnishings, as long as their bed was luxurious. Years of struggling to survive on the street had made Lizzie vow that someday she'd have the best bed there was. Even now, it would take a long time before she'd stop waking up from nightmares of lying on the cold, hard ground or on a filthy mattress in a dosshouse, constantly staying half-awake to watch for ruffians who would grab whatever they could from unsuspecting folk just trying to get a decent night's kip.

The room was small but had a window that opened to a view of the open sea, the summer breeze blowing the curtains inward and bringing with it the scent of fresh air scented by salt water. Air untainted by thick and dirty smog like London was, so they could see diamond-sharp stars in the night sky, right from their bed.

They'd only meant to stay a couple of days in Clovelly and move on. But both of them were instantly enchanted by the cobblestone steps that led straight down to the sparkling sea, the white-washed cottages fronted by summer wildflowers, and the people who were friendly but non-intrusive. Fishermen who worked hard and had no time for pretense, and who let off steam at the Red Lion Pub down at the very bottom of the high street, overlooking the ocean. The "couple of days" stretched out to a fortnight, and then a month.

When Thomas overheard that the current owner of the Red Lion was selling it to move away to join family up north, he mentioned it to Lizzie and suggested they jump at the chance. They both loved the town, he reasoned, and they had enough money that they could buy the pub and keep the current staff on to run it. They could go down and socialize with the townspeople in the pub when they wanted, and stay in their own private cottage when they didn't. Thomas could learn to sail and fish, and Lizzie could tend a garden and paint, like she'd always said she wanted to do.

Once they'd found this cottage for sale and Lizzie had made sure it could fit a small piano, they'd both agreed this was where they would stop running.

"Welcome home, love," Thomas whispered to Lizzie as he nuzzled her neck on their first night in the cottage that would be their home for the next 36 years.

Present Day - Clovelly, England

Trip Advisor is full of glowing reviews for the small bed & breakfast in Clovelly that's reputed to be haunted by the ghosts of a couple who had lived there for decades and died together in their sleep in 1939 after a gas heater malfunctioned in the house. Neighbors had found them several days later in their bed, their arms wrapped around each other.

A legend grew in the town in the years following the couple's deaths which says that Thom and Lizzie Milton have never left their home.

Since the B&B opened for business in 1960, stories have spread of overnight guests who will sometimes hear the tinkle of piano music in the late afternoon, or the murmured laughter of a man and woman late at night in the main bedroom. Some guests have reported their belongings being moved from one place to another overnight. Every story that adds to the legend of "Thom and Lizzie" only makes the B&B more and more popular, and people who want to stay there have to book months in advance.

End


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